Beautiful
by Bohemian Storm
Summary: Brian remembers watching Curt walk out and thinking how beautiful he looked in those last moments. Reviews are appreciate and deeply loved.


Disclaimer: Once more, I don't own them.  
Notes: I think I'm obsessed with this part of the movie. :D I just loved Mandy's line and felt it could fit really nicely, so I did it.   
  
Dedicated to Andrea ... just because I like dedicating things to people and she's one of the few people I know who appreciates my love of Ewan and glitter. :D  
  
Beautiful  
  
~It's funny how beautiful people look when they're walking out the door~  
  
  
I never realized how true that was until Curt Wild walked out of my life. He hurt me, but he looked bloody amazing as he angrily ran down the stairs and out the door. I've never really understood what went wrong that day, only that he looked beautiful through my tears. Words came tumbling from both our mouths and yet the only thing really on my mind was the way he wet his lips with his tongue. They were our last moments and good Lord, he was beautiful.  
  
I remember it like it was yesterday, even though it was more than ten years ago. Even though Curt has probably been in love a hundred times since me. Was he really in love with me? Of course. Was I really in love with him? That's a much harder question to answer. I'm not even sure I'm capable of loving anyone. I hate remembering, but only because of the way I treated him . . . the things I said. He was never good enough for me.  
  
"I'm sorry, Curt," I said. "Jerry doesn't want you . . . I don't want you. You're too much to handle."  
  
His eyes narrowed. "Is that what you think, Brian? Jerry-fucking-Devine tells you that I'm too much to handle and you decide he's right?" He laughed harshly, the sound ripping from a throat destroyed by smoke and drugs. "Well, fuck the whole damn lot of you."  
  
If I ever loved him it was then, as he prepared to walk out the door with his dignity still intact. He was beautiful. He was the thin, oil slicked, glitter covered man with dark makeup, who had first mesmerized me at the concert. Lean muscles flexed under the thin material of his shirt as he shrugged into his jacket, pulling it tightly across his chest. He looked at me, lank, bleached hair falling across his forehead.  
  
I've never seen eyes like his since then; green sparked with blue, more anger and sadness than I'd ever known to be inside of him. That were lined with black, as they always were, giving them a shadowed illusion and they said everything that he couldn't.  
  
"Goodbye."  
  
"I don't hate you."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
The last was spoken aloud, catching me off guard. He was so angry, he had always been so angry at the world, maybe that was why I couldn't love him. That anger was finally directed at him, taken out on me because he had no one else left to take it out on. He wanted to stay, he and I both knew it, but he couldn't. I couldn't have let him stay because of the way he was. He just wasn't good enough.  
  
That was when he turned, hips swaying gently under his coat as he walked from the room. I didn't want him to go, but I had to ignore what was burning inside of me and let him leave. If I didn't let him leave, if I opened my mouth and said anything then my entire resolve would be broken.  
  
Everything about him looked perfect, picturesque even, down to the every last hair on his head. I wanted to touch him, I wanted to kiss him . . . Christ, I wanted to take him on the floor of the recording studio, but I knew I couldn't. It had to end, no matter how beautiful he looked at that moment. It's funny how beautiful people look when they're walking out the door.  
  
"Curt," I said, without realizing that I had opened my mouth.  
  
He stopped and turned to look at me, eyes piercing through all my pretenses. "I said, fuck you," he replied without missing a beat. Then he was gone down the stairs and through the front door.  
  
Tears pooled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. He would not affect me, I wouldn't let him bring me down. Instead, I went to the window and opened it.  
  
"Piss off, go on then. Go back to your wolves, your junkie twerps, your bloody shock treatment and fuck you too," I yelled at him, watching him walk away.  
  
His body, everything about it looked so perfect at that moment. The way he moved, the way he walked, the intense energy around him, it was all perfect. His hair swung, his shoulders were tensed in anger as he walked, his fists balled by his sides. I wanted him more than ever in that moment, every inch of me yearned for him, I ached just to touch him.  
  
Instead, I slammed the window shut and closed him out of my world. Fuck him. He was never that beautiful.  
  
  
End 


End file.
